The Ka'kari Unit
by Xazz
Summary: The ka'kari, three special, single pilot, auto-suits. Fitted with a highly advanced A.I. they think for themselves, acting in their own best interests. Of the three only the BLACK has had a pilot, until recently at least when it suddenly rejected it's pilot of ten years for unknown reasons. More over the fact that all three start reacting to unknown pilots.


what… did I just do? I actually am not that sure. I was writing something and then got the idea for mech AU because fuck yes mechs! Been meaning to write a real Night Angel fic and even then it's still a crossover cause I'm not… entirely comfortable with all the NA mythos (and holy shit there is a lot adlfksdgjfhgsk). So crossover still. What the fuck even ever I don't care what universe you live in Altair and Kylar would be bros.

* * *

For a kid like Kylar, the Academy was the zenith. It was also so woefully out of his league it was ridiculous. You either had to be rich, or chosen, to go to the Academy. It was for people with a particular skill set, one Kylar didn't and would never have, because to have that you had to be trained. To be trained you had to have the time and money to do so, and Kylar didn't have either of those.

It was still sort of run to walk past the Academy on his way home from school and watch the cadets training. They did track and field in one area, and weights in another. He and Jarl would stand just on the other side of the fence after school, Jarl with his bike, Kylar with his skateboard, and watch them go. They were all in amazing shape and from a distance also stupidly good looking.

"Oh, look," Jarl said suddenly as they were watching the cadets, and pointed upwards. Kylar followed his line of sight and watched as a black auto-suit blasted from the top of the building and into the sky. The cadets also stopped, watching.

It wasn't normal, for a pilot to just leave the base without an attack immanent. Especially not this where the suit seemed to catch mid-flight, losing power briefly before the thrusters kicked in again and then shot off into the sky till it was just a black dot. "What the hell was that?" Kylar looked over at Jarl.

"No idea," Jarl said in a long tone. Then the alarm on his phone went off, "oh crap, I'm late for practice," he said, eyes wide. His moms had Jarl in piano classes since he was little.

"Go," Kylar practically pushed him onto the bike.

"You sure?"

"Yes, go. I wanna watch a bit more," and he shooed Jarl away pointedly. The charcoal skinned teen quickly got onto his bike and put the pedal down. Once his friend was gone Kylar sat down on the embankment that overlooked the base, skateboard next to him, and continued to watch the cadets.

There were a few that Kylar could pick out even from a distance, ones he'd noticed several times. One was a _huge _kid who seemed to have muscles on his muscles and bright blonde hair. He was strong, fast, and surprisingly agile for someone that big. There were two others, smaller, darker, one built sort of like a auto-suit himself, wide all over but not fat and strong, like the big blonde one, the other whip thin and faster than anything Kylar had ever seen. They were all boys. There was a girl though, who wasn't fast, or strong, but she was agile and graceful and wore her brown hair in a bun (or he thought it was a bun, it was hard to tell at this distance).

Those were the ones Kylar always saw in this group. He knew there were other classes of cadets, but this class was out on the field at this time. Sometimes he and Jarl stopped to see the morning cadets out there, but not ever long enough for Kylar to pick them out from any other.

He watched for a while and then looked up again when another of the auto-suits suddenly blasted out of the base. This one the characteristic gray color of most auto-suits save for the Cenaria flag embossed large on the shoulders. Apparently pilots customized their auto-suits some what, but it was mostly inside. Or so he'd heard or course.

Eventually the class of cadets went inside and left Kylar with nothing to do so he jacked into his music player, put his board down on the sidewalk, and started home. It took him another ten minutes to reach his house which he only called 'home' in the loosest terms. Kylar was an orphans, he didn't know what happened to his parents, and had lived in foster homes his entire life. Sometimes they were good, and sometimes they were bad.

This was one of the bad ones.

He put his board in the bushes and his music player into his knapsack, in the secret pocket it had at the bottom so his 'dad', or Rat wouldn't steal it, before going up to the house. He unlocked the door and took off his shoes on the welcome mat, putting them carefully in line with the rest of the shoes there, before actually walking into the house and going straight to the room he shared with two other boys.

Kylar knew all the rules and ins and outs of this particular family. He'd been there since he was thirteen, and as he was seventeen now, he rightfully should. The people weren't cruel, but they were harsh and strict and liked things a certain way and made sure in no uncertain terms that Kylar and the three other state wards were only _guests_ in their home. Kylar just did as was told and didn't cause trouble, unlike one of his foster brothers who was rebellious and stupid on top of it.

The bedroom he shared with them was plain. There was a big desk, enough for at least two people to work at once at it, and a bunk-bed, with a trundle pull out, two dressers and a tiny closet, all in an equally tiny room. There was enough room for Kylar to maybe lay down on the floor lengthwise. The walls were white and there was nothing on them. It looked like no one lived there. It wasn't the worst room he'd had, which had at one point been an unfinished basement. So he was okay with this. Tucker, who the others called Rat, did nothing but complain about it when the adults couldn't hear. And even though he'd complain and complain he was also a huge suck up and for some reason their foster parents liked him the best. Kylar wasn't sure why.

Kylar's bed was the top bunk and he climbed right up to do his homework before starting his chores. His foster parents didn't mind that at least, so long as the chores _were_ done before dinner. He pulled out his books and his notes and worked in the silence. As he worked his other foster brother, not Rat, came in. He was small and quiet and still pretty young, also new. Rat liked to torment him.

"Hey Kylar," William called up to him.

"Hmm?" Kylar was reading his biology book.

"I need some help."

"What is it?" he finally looked over the side of the bed at the kid.

"I knocked something over."

"You break it?"

"No."

"What did you knock over?"

"Will you just come help me?" William huffed in as best a way a nine year old could.

Kylar squinted at the boy. This so smelled bad. "Is Rat out there?"

"No," he said it too quickly.

"Yeah he is," Kylar said. Rat also liked trying to get the better of Kylar. He was a year older, _almost_ out of the system, and enjoyed wrestling and shoving Kylar around. He probably enjoyed it _too_ much honestly and Kylar had started telling both William and Fela (his foster sister) that if Rat started acting weird, or touching them to come get him. He'd beaten Rat a few times for rough housing William too much, shoving him to the floor, a dark glint in his eyes. Their foster parents either ignored it or didn't care, and treated Rat like sunshine came out of his ass.

"He is," William said.

"What did he say?" Kylar asked him.

"That if I didn't make you come down he was going to make me do his chores too," typical. When Kylar was on his bed he had the high ground. If Rat wanted to pick a fight he had to make Kylar come down. Clearly the guy was spoiling for a fight.

"Come up here. I'll deal with Rat," Kylar said and dropped down from his bed, sliding effortlessly past the little guard so he didn't roll off. William climbed up the ladder as Kylar left the room. "Tucker," he called, because Rat didn't respond to Rat, even if that was all he was; a rat, ugly and pinch faced with two dark, dark, eyes and a face twisted into a permanent sneer. He didn't get an answer. "Ratty fatty," he called this time, because Rat was sort of tubby. But tubby with muscle and knew how to use it. Rat _hated_ being called ratty fatty.

_That_ got Rat to come out where he was hiding as he showed up at the end of the hall. "Shut up," Rat said, scowling, as usual.

"What do you want?" Kylar asked, ready in case Rat did anything. "Sending Will into our room because you're too chicken shit to come get me yourself," he made a face at him.

"What'd you just say to me?" Rat demanded.

"Chicken shit scared Ratty fatty scared of me maybe?" Kylar knew he was _really_ pushing it. He definitely was when Rat threw his entire weight at him with a yell. They went down hard on the wooden floor and it was a full on fight. Kylar punched, Rat elbowed, and they grappled about, trying to get leverage. Rat had mass on him, but Kylar was flexible and against each other they could beat the hell out of each other without a real winner.

Which is exactly what happened when their 'dad', who'd heard the commotion, showed up and ripped them apart. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded.

"Kylar started it," Rat said, doing his best to look innocent.

"You little— I did not!" Kylar cried.

"He was calling me names," Rat kept going.

"Kylar, were you calling Tucker names?"

"No," Kylar scowled a little as their 'dad' looked at him and Rat looked so damn smug Kylar hated him all the more.

"Kylar?" he said sternly.

"I didn't call him anything."

"He called me a fatty," Rat said.

"Kylar!"

"He was extorting William!" he tried to defend himself but it probably would do him little good.

"You still have chores, go do them," and he pushed Kylar away a little.

"What about Ra-Tucker?" he demanded.

"You can do his too," and Kylar wanted to _scream_. That was his plan! Rat threw Kylar a grin as he followed their 'dad'. "Make sure they're done before dinner," he added.

Kylar stood there _fuming_. That was what Rat had wanted. He knew Kylar would know William was lying and come down and deal with him and that Kylar would call him out. He knew they'd fight and when they did their 'dad' would side with him. It was cunning, clever, and really annoying.

He looked at the clock, he had an hour and a half to do two hours worth of chores. He needed to get started so he could try to get done before dinner while Rat would probably watch him from the couch, grinning the entire time. Stupid Ratty fatty.

—

There were two things Durzo did when he was upset; he drank, and he fucked and he drank some more. Not exactly in that order, but that was what he did and heaven help anyone who got in his way when he was in a mood. Like now actually. He wasn't sure what glass of beer he was on, but his glass kept refilling and he kept drinking.

He was pretty gone, but even wasted you didn't mess with Durzo, he just _looked_ dangerous. He was an auto-suit pilot and anyone with a set of eyes knew better than to tango with one of those. Navs were supposed to hold their pilots back, Durzo hadn't had one of those in a while, not since he'd been able to pilot the BLACK. The BLACK was a single seat suit, totally alien and advanced from the normal two seater suit. Durzo had been the only able to pilot it in years.

And now he _couldn't_.

Thinking it made him want to throw his beer glass. He was pretty sure he did when he went to drink and found an empty hand. He scowled at the bar and then at whoever _was_ giving him beer in time to take the next cup. "Should'a known," he said, slurring only a bit for how much beer he'd had.

"I'm always here," Gwin said, regal and perfect as she handed Durzo his drink. "Better me than you doing something stupid, don't you think?"

"Shaddup," and he sulked into his beer, though he'd never admit to sulking later. He knew Gwinvere would show up eventually. She'd been his navigator before he'd been put into the BLACK. She knew him as well as he knew himself, sometimes even better. He drank his beer, she refilled it, saying nothing and it occurred to him how quiet the bar was. He'd come in and it was loud, boisterous. Now there was just him and Gwin.

Bastards. They'd probably cleared the place out when she'd shown up. Didn't want their pilot to make a scene in a place like this. He didn't blame them. He _would_ have made a scene. Even drunk Durzo could have kicked everyone's ass in this pathetic bar. He drained that glass too. Gwin filled it.

"You done?" she asked. Not with the drinking. He'd be at that for a while more. She meant with his hissy fit. That was the only word he could really use and Durzo was man enough to know when he was being a brat. It was because of the BLACK unit was a touchy thing that only liked certain pilots. It was an old suit, but still better than anything they had. It had accepted only two other pilots in about a hundred years, and Durzo had been been BLACK's pilot and sole operator for nearly ten years. The other two apparently hadn't lasted that long. But now the BLACK decided it didn't _like_Durzo and he couldn't pilot it safely anymore. Today had been the kicker when he'd almost _fallen out of the sky_. One of the only auto-suits with thrusters and Durzo would have crashed it.

He was done. The BLACK wasn't his anymore. It wouldn't work for him. Durzo stared into his mug of beer miserably a moment and then it disappeared when he smashed it against the floor. Gwin gave him another. He drank that one before saying, "Yeah."

"I'm sorry Durzo," she said gently.

"Save your fucking pity. I don't want it," he growled, glaring at her.

"You know I'd never do something as stupid as pity you," she reminded him, unintimidated, or if she was she'd long ago learned to hide it. If navs were intimidated by their pilots they learned to not show it, because pilots could fly off the handle and navigators needed to know how to calm them down, control them. Some said of the team navigators were really the strong ones, the important ones. Pilots were just there to fight. Durzo couldn't tell them they were wrong.

"Good," he grunted and she filled his glass.

'They're going to give you a new suit-

"Don't want one," he said.

"Durzo you can't just-

He threw the glass again, it flew past her head and hit the back of the bar, destroying the mirror. She swallowed, a bit shaken now. "I'm not getting a new one," he said in an amazingly steady tone. After piloting the BLACK nothing could compare. He knew that. He knew it as soon as he sat in that cockpit and felt how _easy_ it was, that he'd never be able to go back to a normal suit. He could still pilot them, he ran simulators a lot, usually to push them to breaking, but he didn't want to ever get back into a real auto-suit again that wasn't the BLACK.

She took a deep breath, "Why?"

"It's BLACK, or none," he hissed.

Gwin sighed, "Okay."

"Good," he tapped the bar top, she pulled out another glass and filled it. He drank. It was water.

"What's this shit?" he demanded.

"You're done," she said.

"Gwinvere I swear to god-

"You're _done_ Durzo," she snapped. He growled at her, she didn't waver.

"Fine," he knocked the water over on the bar, making a mess. Fuck it.

Gwin came around the other side of the bar, "C'mon," she said gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. He frowned at her, still miserable, also drunk. He wouldn't be over this for a long time. "Come with me," and she pulled him off the stool. He went, because Durzo did two things when he was upset: he drank, and he fucked.

—

Gwinvere looked at herself in the mirror and grabbed one of the pins on her vanity. Sometimes he was just too easy. She clipped her slowly graying hair into place and checked that it was perfect. As she knew, it was, because Gwinvere didn't do anything _but_ perfect. Her scalp hurt just a bit, but that was a passing nuisance and after making sure her makeup, like her hair, was properly in order, she left her room. Durzo was still asleep on the bed, buried under covers and pillows like the baby she knew he could be.

Yes, sometimes it was really just too easy.

The door slid closed and she walked down the hall to the elevators. When it came she went down two floors and into the rising, morning, sun. There was a group of cadets already outside, practicing, though at this distance she couldn't tell which branch they were in. It mattered little.

At the main hanger she swiped her security card and was granted access with a soft beep. The base was already awake, breakfast having just ended, the work day starting. She stepped onto the the top landing and looked down into the massive hanger, multi leveled with the specialized auto-suits set into the walls like toys. Rank and file auto-suits were kept at the bulk hanger, but all the ones in here were special, for special pilots. Not special like Unit BLACK was special, lesser so, _normal_ special. Gwinvere looked over the hanger, the techs and engineers running specs before their patrol to the northern border, always a danger even with the Screaming Winds holding the northern pass as the Khalidorans were also spoiling for a fight.

Gwinvere left the landing and walked down to the first floor, heading for another part of the hanger. People moved out of her way in a hurry. Since she'd stopped being Durzo's navigator nearly ten years ago she'd climbed the ladder in other ways since she couldn't attach herself to one of the best pilots on base. Most people didn't know this, but everyone who worked in the hanger _did_, and they knew that where Gwinvere walked, you best make room because she didn't step around _anybody_.

Her security card opened another door which was actually a series of doors that created an air tight bulk head between the main hanger and the Ka'kari Unit, also known as Unit K. The hall between the main hanger and where Unit K were situated was a hundred feet long and stopped at both ends with fifteen feet thick doors made of steel, rock protected the rest of the hall as it sloped down at a radical angle being more wide stairs than a slope. Another swipe opened the doors at the other end.

Here there were fewer workers, more scientists, and three auto-suits. The BLACK -a flat black suit that resisted any attempts to repaint it-, APPLE -a pearly white one like the BLACK-, and ANIMUS- one that was sort of white and sort of blue though no one could agree on what color it really was. All names were given by the suits themselves and no one knew what they stood for, if they did at all. APPLE was perhaps the strangest if only because it was a food.

Of the three only the APPLE had never accepted a pilot. The BLACK had accepted three in total, and ANIMUS one, though he didn't pilot it any more. Something about the suit had caused him to have a massive psychological break down and he was on near perpetual suicide watch in the event he tried to kill himself. The APPLE was sealed and no one could even get into it, as was the ANIMUS who after its last pilot had gone into a sort of sleep mode and sealed itself. The BLACK still allowed people in it, as Durzo was still around and while it obviously wasn't letting Durzo pilot it any more it still responded to him like it hadn't done for in years.

They'd been found about a hundred years ago, years after auto-suits became normal and every nation was trying to out tech each other as far as suits went after the first one was found, code named Ezra. The original Ezra had been lost decades ago from fighting and war. Shortly after the loss of Ezra though Cenaria had found the three ka'kari units. According to data they could get from the BLACK there were six ka'kari units, at least that they knew of. No one had any idea where the others were though and the tech itself was more advanced than anything they'd ever seen. It was on level with Ezra, and clearly had been built at the same time as Ezra had been, whenever that was.

Gwinvere was in charge of the ka'kari units. She oversaw them, made sure they weren't damaged and ensured that the scientists working on discovering their secrets didn't break them or themselves in the process. A very real danger when one of these suits had driven a pilot mad and possessed an advanced A.I. that no one had been able to replicate and only interacted with their pilots. It was a very sensitive operation, and that was why she got to handle it. She knew all about handing delicate things, she'd handled Durzo for years, even after she stopped being his navigator. He'd been the BLACK's pilot and she'd been Unit K's overseer.

"How's it look?" she asked as she moved into the smaller hanger. Most of the activity was centered around the BLACK as unlike the other two they could get _in_ to the BLACK, though she wasn't sure what good it did them. They'd been meddling with the BLACK for ten years and still only had gleaned a fraction of the things it could teach them.

"Steady as she goes," said one of the techs at the computer.

"Any change from yesterday?"

"No ma'am."

"So Durzo managed not to break it. Good," she gave a little sigh. "What about the APPLE?" for years APPLE had been showing very low level reaction, which it had _never_ done. On par with ANIMUS which continued to do so even after rejecting its former pilot. The suits reacted to people who would be their pilots, as the BLACK had, and still did with Durzo though Durzo was on a much higher level. No one knew _who_ APPLE was reacting to though, it could literally be anyone on the base and Durzo and the former ANIMUS pilot Clay had both been sort of dumb luck in finding them.

"No change," he recited.

"And ANIMUS?"

"Last night readings spiked, not sure why, we'll have something for you tonight or tomorrow. Apparently Clay is also back on suicide watch."

Gwinvere frowned deeply, that wasn't good. The hope was that Clay could get better and eventually get back in the suit, not to pilot it again, as clearly the suit had rejected him, but to at least open it up. ANIMUS and the BLACK were very different in internal construction, though they looked fairly similar from the outside, though the ANIMUS was thinner and most fragile looking of the three. They'd only had a few months with Clay as the pilot before he was rejected, not nearly enough time to do _anything_ with that. It didn't look like he'd be well enough to get near it again for a while as being near the suit increased his trauma.

"Could the two be related?" she asked, looking at the white-blue-gray suit in question.

"Possible. Not entirely sure yet. As far as we know the pilot and suit aren't telepathically linked. From what we can tell with Durzo-

"The BLACK is not the ANIMUS," Gwinvere interrupted him with a roll of her eyes. "Make no mistake, just because Durzo says something for the BLACK doesn't mean the same is for the other two."

His mouth became thin, "Of course," he said, though did so tightly.

"Not to mention Durzo lies," she added. "Whatever he says about the BLACK assume he's lying," she rolled her eyes a bit. She knew Durzo knew a lot more about the BLACK than he let on, or would ever tell, though she wasn't sure exactly what he was and wasn't lying about. She was good, but she wasn't _that_ good, and she was no mind reader.

"So is he free for interrogation?" another tech asked.

"I'd wait a while. He's still sore about being rejected as a pilot," _that_ was an understatement if last night had been any indication.

"Ma'am, you might want to come see this," a third suddenly called.

"What?" she moved over to them.

"Reaction from the BLACK just changed."

_"Changed_?" she asked. "What do you mean changed?"

"This is normal readings when Durzo isn't in the hanger," and he showed her a a static screen. "These are current readings," and it switched to a live screen. Normally they were pretty low level as Durzo had bonded the BLACK, but now they were… flipping out was the best way to describe it honestly. They hadn't seen this since the BLACK had chosen Durzo ten years ago.

"What in the world?" she breathed.

"The suit's reacting to a new pilot?" they ventured.

"But where?" shit Durzo couldn't know this. He would act like a jilted lover if he found out the BLACK already had decided on a new pilot. He already sort of was. The BLACK had been _his_ for years, he wouldn't just let anyone have it.

"No idea. Could be anyone on the base, same as the APPLE," the tech said.

Then, all at once, the readings dimmed back to normal levels. "What— just happened?" she asked.

"I don't know," the tech said, confused and pressed his hands across the screen, trying to find out what had happened.

"Figure it out. If the BLACK _has_ picked a new pilot I want to know who they are and if they aren't already I want them at the Academy."

"Yes, ma'am. I'll see what I can do," he promised.

"See that you do," and it was clear that Gwinvere wouldn't accept failure for this. They'd found a new pilot, they _had_ to have them.


End file.
